


All Through the House

by A_Farnese



Series: Domestic Bliss [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Christmas Eve, Family, Holidays, M/M, christmas trees
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 16:57:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5505692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Farnese/pseuds/A_Farnese
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Christmas Eve, and something is out of place in the Pendragon/Emrys household.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Through the House

‘Twas the night before Christmas and Arthur was wide awake. The living room was lit by the white lights in the tree, giving the place a magical look. He wouldn’t have been surprised to peer out the window and find snow falling. Or a big red sleigh pulled by eight tiny reindeer. But there was only a quiet, night-shrouded London street outside, and a tastefully decorated Christmas tree inside.

And Merlin, asleep on the couch with his nose in a book like a six-year old waiting up for Santa Claus to appear.

His absence had woken Arthur, an odd turn of events given his history with previous bedmates-- a few one-night pulls and a trio of longer term flings, none of whom he’d been able to fall asleep with. Then Merlin came along, and sleeping beside him had been as easy as breathing. So natural that the lack of him felt unnatural, an abnormal occurrence that needed to be righted before life could move on.

“Merlin?” Arthur touched him on the shoulder, said his name again when the sleeper didn’t awaken. “Merlin? Are you going to stay out here all night?”

Merlin stirred and made a noise deep in his throat, a questioning sound that had nothing to do with wakefulness. The book slid closer to the edge. Arthur rescued it before it fell, though the drop could hardly hurt the battered old copy of _The Return of the King_. It was part of the set Merlin’s mother bought him when he was eleven. It had come a long way before finding a place of honor next to the thrillers Arthur bought but never managed to read.

Their bookshelves reflected the two of them, Merlin’s battered classics next to Arthur’s untouched bestsellers. Merlin’s vintage ornaments hanging next to Arthur’s shiny new ones. They were opposites. What they had together shouldn’t have worked. And yet it did. As easy as breathing.

Arthur tugged the blanket off the back of the couch and draped it over Merlin. It wouldn’t quite cover him from head to toe, but it would keep him warm enough if he spent all night out here. He sighed in his sleep and curled up tighter, his long fingers wrapping around the blanket’s edge. Arthur smiled and brushed a hand over Merlin’s hair before his own restlessness drew him to the tree.

A few ornaments were out of place. Gwaine had most likely moved them, or Morgana had, disrupting the order that Arthur had established on the tree. He had meant to create a perfect blend of Merlin’s ornaments-- the ones that Hunith had sent him-- and his own, turning the tree into a sort of metaphor of their relationship that no one else seemed to get it. Gwaine was too busy turning anything that mentioned ‘The First Noel’ into ‘The First Leon’, and Morgana just liked to be irritating when she was tipsy.

It only took a few minutes to put them back in place. The crocheted snowflake, the glass stars, and the little wooden nutcracker. Everything where it was supposed to be, from the Weeping Angel tree topper to the shining packages below. Arthur’s and Hunith’s were haphazardly wrapped, and he was hard-pressed to tell if Merlin’s spidery scrawl said, ‘Arthur’ or ‘Arwen’. Either one was as likely as the other.

Arthur’s biggest gift to Merlin hardly fit under the tree. Computer boxes were never small, no matter how sleek and thin the gadget inside was. He had already transferred Merlin’s files onto the new machine and set the desktop background with the same picture as the old one. He’d even tracked down most of the stickers Merlin had adorned the old computer with.

Now came the nerve-wracking part of gift giving: finding out whether the recipient appreciated the gift or not. Would Merlin like the new computer, or would he see it as an attempt to buy the love he freely gave?

He hoped it was the former. Artists of all stripes needed the proper tools, and after an autumn spent hearing Merlin griping about the old laptop’s myriad problems, Arthur had decided to play patron. Money was for spending, after all, and his father had always lectured him on the value of wise investments. Besides, if Merlin had a working computer, he’d be able to keep writing the stories that had captured Arthur’s heart in the first place.

“Arthur? What’re you doing? And what time is it?” Merlin’s voice was thick with sleep, the blanket barely clinging to his shoulders as he sat up. He looked the part of the disheveled writer, blinking owlishly, his hair a tousled mess.

“Just fixing the tree. And it’s a little after two,” Arthur said, grinning. “I thought you were going to sleep out here all night. What were you doing? Waiting up for Santa Claus?”

“I was reading. Fell asleep,” Merlin said. He felt around for the book and clutched it to his chest like a talisman.

“Obviously. Do you want to come to bed, or are you happy there on the couch?”

Merlin rubbed his eyes. “Bed’s good. I like bed. I don’t think the reindeer are going to show up anyway,” he said, a cheeky smile spreading across his face. He reached a hand out for Arthur to pull him up and lead him to their bedroom, but dug his heels in and stopped before they stepped out of the room.

“I thought you wanted to go to bed,” Arthur said, raising an eyebrow at Merlin’s sudden stubbornness.

“In a minute,” Merlin said. “But first, look up.”

“What?” Arthur looked up. “Oh.”

A little sprig of mistletoe was tacked to the doorframe above them. Whether it was real or plastic, Arthur couldn’t tell in the darkness. It hardly mattered. He was standing right under it, and Merlin’s eyes were shining and deep, and their kiss was as good as every Christmas morning he’d ever had. He hated when it ended.

They stayed close, basking in each other’s warmth and the soft light and not moving until Merlin brushed his lips against Arthur’s cheek. “Merry Christmas, love,” he whispered in his ear.

“Merry Christmas.”


End file.
